What I Am To You: An American Idol Fanfic
by Mental Ninja With Super Powers
Summary: Crossed paths never uncross, as a depressed alcoholic and an international superstar soon learn after five years of estrangement. As they untangle their complex knots, they battle their own flawed psychologies, face potent romantic rivals and unknowingly flirt with the mysterious forces of life. Ship: PhilJessTon.
1. Chapter 1

**What I Am To You**

**1**

He stared absentmindedly at the gurgling baby.

Behind the shabby white crib that held the tiny, squirming figure of Phillip Phillips the third, the TV was on. But the thoughts of his run-down father were worlds from either of these things.

They were still stuck in the dark, smoky San Diego venue of the Replay tour, reliving those horrible moments over, and over, and over.

He thought he actually performed pretty well for someone who'd chugged a fifth of whiskey an hour before. He'd seen far worse from sober performers in his younger days. He guessed that maybe there were circumstances that made his situation less acceptable. First, there was the fact that he was headlining the mid-large scale indie tour. Then, the fact that it was his last show. But the more he tried to rationalize what happened, the more glaringly obvious the real reason for it became. He had simply been too drunk to even realize he was drunk, think straight, hear the way he sounded or basically do anything right.

Clearly he'd been even more smashed than the crowd, whose hazy hearing still picked up the wrong notes and the voice breaks. Then came the boos. It was the most intense booing he'd ever received. The walls had shook with angry yells and howling jeers. As booing escalated into heckling, he'd dodged beer cans and a burning cigarette had singed his face. Shocked, shaken and shamed, he'd escaped the stage with his guitar as the audience swarmed forward calling for blood.

On top of a long list of failures, that incident took the final hit. For two weeks already now Phillip Phillips had stayed in San Diego, rented an apartment and drowned his sorrows nightly in shady bars where no one knew his name. And now he held Jack Daniels in one hand and the remote in the other, aimlessly flipping through the channels that trumpeted happiness and satisfaction, so close yet so far away.

At the root of it all, he felt unfulfilled, empty – like something was missing. The endless expanse of ambitions and possibilities when the sky first opened up for him five years ago now seemed to be eons away, petty and meaningless. And the strangest thing was that until recently, he was by no means unsuccessful in his career. He was not an international superstar – as everybody expected an American Idol to be – but he was a big indie name, had a decent national following and earned a comfortable living. Still, he could never explain the bouts of depression that frequently seized him, even after he'd married Hannah and started a family. The persistent feeling that he had been disappointed and lied to had created a drinking problem that not only seriously bruised his reputation, but also his relationship. Worst of all, he couldn't understand why that feeling was there. It had been there since the start.

_Winner? What a joke,_ he thought as he took another swig. _I'm a loser. _Then suddenly, a flash of clarity in inebriation. _That's it... I lost something. And I must have lost it that night. But the question is... what?_

**FIVE YEARS AGO**

In slow motion she saw Ryan Seacrest's mouth form the consonant that created the "f" sound, and the whole world stopped.

She didn't hear his name. His hand had gone from her waist. He wasn't there. There was no screaming. There was no confetti. For what seemed like five complete seconds, it was just her in an empty blue room that was silent except for a loud, droning hum. She stood alone on the stage, staring down at the vacant seats. Her dream was down there somewhere, escaped from the open envelope, scurrying away from her at the speed of light. There! - a dark shadow flitting across the neon logo. Was that it? Or was she imagining things? Her head felt congested from the repressed tears. Her heart felt heavy.

Then someone pressed the play button of her life again, and the first thing she heard was the name of the boy who for the last two months had made her laugh and cry and swoon, stood up for her, admired her, defended her... and now, taken everything she'd wanted away from her. The confetti that would fall from the sky was for him, not her. The winner of American Idol was him, not her. It took another half-second stretched into eternity for it to sink in.

Then she knew that at that moment she needed him more than ever. She needed comfort. She needed a shirt to soak up the stray tears. Surely after he'd taken everything she wanted – however deserving he was – he wouldn't deny her that, right? Surely he'd understand how happy she was for him and how much it hurt. Then it would all be okay, at least for another few moments. The thought process that lasted no more than five seconds in real-time ended there, and American Idol runner-up Jessica Sanchez threw her arms around Phillip Phillips in what seemed to everyone else like a childish, spontaneous embrace.

"Whoooa," she heard him say quietly as he pulled her close. She smiled despite herself, but as she tightened her grip, she felt the awkward, cold rigidness of his body and the lack of warmth in his touch, and her heart sank. After a while she pulled away, chilled to the bone with a stony disappointment. She knew why, but still it hit hard. Feeling the camera lights on her, she fought to plaster on a fake smile as she choked back a sob.

"Phillip Phillips, your American Idol," proclaimed Seacrest cheerily to the celebrating crowd. "Jessica Sanchez, your runner-up." For a second Ryan's eyes met hers, and she thought she saw a wistful compassion in them that warmed her cold heart, although she knew he didn't understand beyond the obvious. Then she turned – the others were coming. Heejun went straight past her for Phillip, but as she was watching their happy moment she felt a strong arm around her shoulder. Colton's grip was firm and sincere, and for the first time Jessica felt part of that aching emptiness being filled. She raised her head to look at him and her pulse quickened. Because although she saw that same compassion in her good friend's eyes, Colton also wore a little gentle half-smile that told her that somehow – by some means – he understood the rest. Surprised, she returned the smile, a genuine one, just for him.

Then all her great friends from the show crowded over in a massive group hug congratulating her and Phil, and for those precious moments, everything _was_alright. And Jessica decided that if she could hold onto this feeling, her fake smile could last the rest of the night.

She could care less about anything else. Certainly not Phillip. As he prepared to sing his final song, she turned and followed her friends off the stage. _Just walk away. Don't look back._ She heard his deep voice, the airy guitar. _Jess, be strong. Walk out. The media won't mind. They know how you feel. He's just another white guy with a guitar, and he doesn't care about you._

But of course she knew she was kidding herself. Of course she had to look back. She turned around just in time to see him step away from the mic as the tears streamed down his face. Jessica was suddenly possessed by a peculiar emotion that made her heart feel like it was about to explode. It was a seamless mixture of polar opposites: sincere happiness with seething anger, pure adoration with bitter hatred. She'd kept her eyes dry the whole night, but now one drop fell loose.

She tried to stay and watch everything else. She watched him walk down the stage in a trance. She watched him hug his family. But when he locked lips with his girlfriend – Hannah, was it? - she made up her mind. For the last time she turned away, and then she walked in her own trance down the aisle towards the exit. To her surprise, no one stopped her. No paparazzi weighed down her getaway. They all made space for her, the heartbroken little diva who was sad because she didn't win Idol. She caught a final, fleeting glance of Colton, who must've looked as distraught as she did. Finally. There it was. The exit. Salvation.

Jessica made a break to the restroom and when she slammed the stall door, the tears finally came.


	2. Chapter 2

**2**

It was 11PM. The baby's crying had died down, either from resignation or lack of energy. Phillip never seemed to notice that it had started up in the first place. He was slumped on the floor, his back leaning against the bottom of the couch and his legs sprawled over the carpet. Two Jack Daniels bottles lay empty and abandoned next to him, and a third one in his hand was a quarter empty. He hadn't figured out what he'd lost yet, but now that he was slowly approaching his beloved smashed state of mind, the visions swam in his head of blue neon lights and crimson dresses, of unholy demonic shrieks and a deep-voiced doppelganger with a glowing trophy, of white-robed saints, cinnamon angels and rainbow rain. He loved it when his mental walls caved in and let his soul loose: once the exclusive purpose of playing music, now only attainable by alcohol. As his mind's restrictions steadily broke down, he decided to do it at long last after two hours of hesitation.

He picked up the remote and changed the channel to MTV.

He knew perfectly well what – or rather, who – he'd see there.

But that was exactly why.

The bright seizure-inducing colors of the intro screen hit his tipsy senses like a freight train. The impossibly deep voice of Ted Williams, the channel's famed announcer, reverberated in his head. "MTV's Artist of the Week," Ted declared. Animated steel doors slammed shut and blinding sky-blue glass letters burst into the frame in a shower of fireworks. Just seeing the name made him dizzy.

"JESSICUHHHH SANCHEZZZZ," boomed Ted. "Ever since her stunning debut album _Blue Jay _in 2013 and sophomore record _Work Hard Stay Humble _in 2015, J-Chez has established herself as the pop queen of the decade. Don't miss this Grammy-winning megastar's new platinum album _BBLove _and the BBLove World Tour that hits California next week."

Phillip smiled wryly to himself. He hadn't seen Jessica face-to-face for four years. That evening, that evening when he lost _something_, she'd disappeared. By the time he'd recovered from the shock of the win, she was nowhere in sight. The producers had panicked severely trying to find her after the cameras stopped rolling and the audience had for the most part dispersed. Someone else had been missing that night too. _Someone unimportant... a guy. DeAndre? Colton. That's it. Colton Dixon. Yes, of course – they'd found her crying in Colton's arms two hours later._ Then for the rest of that week, that month, that summer, they shared press and the tour. But nothing was ever the same. Always that awkwardness, that tinge of discomfort when she was with him. _I understand – winning Idol was her dream since she was two, and I took it. It must have really upset her. _At the end of tour, they only waved goodbye. He watched her drive off and never saw her in person again.

Of course, he saw her everywhere else. _Blue Jay_ was a smash hit that soared like its namesake over _Songs, _his own debut. _Work Hard Stay Humble _and _More Songs _weren't even in the same galaxy. She was the only thing on the radio every time a new single or album was released. TV shows, advertisements for Coca Cola and Levi's Jeans (what a perfect choice, he remembered thinking), the BillBoard Top 40, actual literal billboards, world tours, Hollywood movies... she was everywhere. And after four years she was still going strong. Almost nobody associated her with Idol anymore. She was the most successful alum since Daughtry. But still Phillip had seen the interviews on the talk shows where Jimmy, Conan or Ellen would teasingly ask about her run on the competition...

"_Most of you probably don't know this, but J-Chez came second on American Idol when she was just sixteen," crooned Ellen DeGeneres to the cheering crowd. "I still can't believe she didn't win. __Who won that season? Does anyone even remember that guy?"_

_Jessica smiled but looked a bit pale. "It was Phillip Phillips."_

"_Phillip Phillips...who the hell is that? Is he even still alive?" joked Ellen. The audience erupted in laughter._

_Jessica laughed thinly and shrugged. "I don't know." The audience descended into hysterics._

Phillip recalled that he had also chuckled bitterly. _Barely, __Jessica,_ he thought. _Barely._

A short music video segment of Jessica's new single, _Skinny __Mini_, began. The song was a typical party rock song with a bassy club beat. The video was Lady Gaga-esque with Jess dancing in skinny jeans and a tight leather top next to hordes of lean, shirtless guys under flashing cyan and hot pink spotlights. Phillip couldn't help but note how mature and attractive she looked. She wasn't a child anymore, but a young woman confident with her own sexuality. She was extremely sexy, and he didn't feel strange thinking that. After all, she was twenty-one, and he was drunk off his head.

What he saw next suddenly sobered him up. The _Skinny __Mini _video faded out, and Jessica Sanchez's smiling face came on screen against a simple grey background. He hadn't seen the details of her face – the contours and the happy expression – so clearly in a long time. When she spoke, her delicate voice, free of auto-tune, sent pleasant chills down his spine.

"Hey BluJays, it's J-Chez here," she said. "To all my aspiring songwriter fans, don't miss the chance to be part of my newest album! Write and record your original song and send it to jchez  or miked . You don't have to send it to both emails, just making it easier to get through." She giggled. "The song that I like the most will be my next single that will be on my newest album, and I'll debut it live on the BBLove World Tour! The winner also receives a $100,000 royalty and a limited edition copy of _BBLove_ signed by me. Show your creativity, BluJays! Peace out, and see you on tour!" Then the animated steel doors slammed shut again, and they opened to reveal the music video for her poignant hit ballad, _Still __A __Child_.

Phillip didn't know if he was having a revelation or a mental breakdown. He began laughing hysterically, convulsing in long, drawn-out shrieks of manic laughter. His son woke up and started wailing. But Phillip couldn't stop laughing, because he'd just gotten the greatest idea. _I'll __teach __her, __the __bitch.__I'll __teach __her __to __ignore __me. __I'll __send __in __the __best __J-Chez __diss __ever __and __embarrass __her._Still laughing uncontrollably, he shot up with the intention of grabbing a pen and paper, but before he could even take a step, he collapsed and fainted on the couch.


	3. Chapter 3

**3**

Hannah Blackwell returned to the apartment to find her husband passed out on the couch and the baby crying weakly.

A nauseating wave of panic and horror washed over her.

She rushed to the child. His whimpers were feeble. She touched his skin – cold and clammy. The inside of his mouth was paper-dry. The color drained from her face. She knew what was wrong.

Trying not to burst into tears, she ran to the refrigerator and seized a milk bottle; sure enough, there were exactly the same number of bottles as there had been when she left that morning. She dashed back to her son and stuffed the teat into his mouth, her heart calming as she watched his little lips quiver contentedly. For two minutes she was filled with the same serenity that always filled her when she fed her baby. This time, however, it didn't last long. Another complex emotion was creeping upwards: pained and indignant anger.

She turned off the TV, placed Phillip's head upright, and shook him as gently as she could. "Phillip," she whispered.

His bloodshot eyes opened languidly. "Wha..."

"Phillip," Hannah said again. Her eyes filled with tears. "You didn't feed the baby."

"I di – the baby – no, I did."

"No, honey, you didn't." She couldn't hold it in anymore. Her lip quivered and tears rolled down her cheeks. She held him tightly and sobbed into his shirt, smelling the pungent odor of alcohol.

He smoothed his hand over her back, as if to comfort her. "Babe, I clearly remember that I did feed him."

Something inside Hannah finally snapped. She jerked away from his embrace. "No, you didn't," she said. She pushed him away against the couch. "No, you didn't," she said again, louder this time. "NO YOU DIDN'T!" she screamed, slapping him. "NO YOU DIDN'T! NO YOU DIDN'T! NO YOU DIDN'T!" She hit him, pulled his hair, did all she could – then crumpled to the floor, bawling.

She saw him stand up and sit down next to her. She felt his hand on her shoulder. "Hannah, I haven't been drinking."

"Don't lie to me."

To her surprise she realized that he had also started crying. "Oh my god, Hannah, I'm sorry," he choked.

She was silent. Two arms wrapped around her neck.

"Oh my god, I love you," he whispered frantically over and over as he pulled her close again. "I love you more than... I _was_ drinking... I _was_... You don't know how sorry I am... I've just been miserable, you know? So miserable...lost something... I _lost _something..."

"You're sick, Phillip," she whispered tearfully. "You need help."

He didn't answer.

They held each other like that for a long, long time.

"Tell me," Hannah mumbled as Phil's fingers stroked her hair. "Why are we here in San Diego?"

When he answered, he sounded a little more sober. "Tour...and my problems. You were the one who wanted to follow me. Don't like it, you can go home. I won't stop you."

She shook her head. "I followed you because I love you and I want to be there for you. In sickness and in health. I can't leave you here depressed like this."

Once again, that bitter laugh she heard so often recently. "Then prepare to be stuck here for a long time."

Phil was asleep. Hannah turned on the TV on low volume.

It was on MTV, and there was Jessica Sanchez, Phillip's friend from American Idol. _She's absolutely stunning now, _Hannah thought admiringly. _And so successful. Everyone knows who J-Chez is. _She smiled as she remembered that she had all three albums in her iPhone. She always found it a bit odd that Phillip never talked to her about his superstar friend. They were such good friends during the show, but they seemed to have drifted apart completely. Four years ago when _Blue Jay_ was first released, Hannah had asked Phillip if he could get an autograph for her, and was returned with an exasperated glare. She never asked again.

She felt happy watching Jessica, the fully bloomed starlet. She was such a sweet girl. She looked at the video that was playing: it was _Skinny Mini._ How did that one go?

_Skinny mini mini, _

_won't you light a fire in me baby,_

_Stay, stay, stay with me_

_you're my skinny mini, baby..._

Hannah looked around to see if anyone was watching. Then she got up and danced to J-Chez's moves, giggling, feeling the aching emotional stress lift from her shoulders, until the video was over.

_He walked alone in a sprawling, unfamiliar metropolis. Around him, the buildings rose up like silver concrete giants. The windows glittered; the sky was a blazing, cloudless blue. In the distance, he spotted the tallest skyscraper he'd ever seen. He couldn't tell if it looked like a trophy or a Johnnie Walker Black Label. Probably a bit of both._

_It took a while for it to register that he had no idea where he was. He wasn't very familiar with San Diego. He was lost. The first thing that came to his mind was that he needed to ask for directions. But by all accounts it looked like he was alone._

_Except for Jessica Sanchez, who was walking some distance in front of him, _

_He hadn't seen and couldn't see her face, but he was somehow a hundred percent certain it was her. Despite her four-year absence in his life, it felt completely obvious and unsurprising that she was right there. He tried to pick up his pace to catch up with her, but his feet met resistance, as if they were in water, even though they were walking on a paved path. Even so, she seemed to sense his intention and, to his frustration, started walking even faster. He noticed that her footsteps matched his accelerating heartbeat._

_Whenever she made a turn around a corner, he lost sight of her for a few seconds and panic seized him, but then he'd spot her in the corner of his eye even further away than she'd been before, and he'd feel a kind of annoyed relief. In this way they weaved through the cement labyrinth as they ventured deeper and deeper into the heart of the strange city. _

"_Slow down," he tried to yell. No sound came out – or perhaps the words were simply being drowned by the increasingly loud sounds that were drifting from the towering buildings as they progressed: disjointed guitar riffs, piano notes, and drum rhythms. He was amazed to hear the separate elements of the cacophonous mess floating in the air somehow entwining with each other by their own accord, forming a discernible melody, a veritable tune, a backing track for their tense promenade. It was the best thing he'd ever heard._

_Around them, the buildings began to crumble and fall away. Suddenly they were wading in shallow water as the scene opened into a sandy aquamarine coastline that stretched sideways into oblivion. He heard lyrics. Was she singing? It was her voice, but it seemed to be coming from the air itself, a natural surround-sound system. The words made him cry._

_He stopped short, and his heart skipped a beat. He felt like he couldn't breathe – not only because he was crying too hard, but also because he saw someone else sitting on the edge of the beach._

_A man. Was it Colton Dixon? Phillip couldn't see._

_He saw Jessica sit down next to the man. She put one arm around the man's waist and caressed him with the other, kissing his neck. Phillip felt a stab of jealousy. He slowly approached the intimate lovers from behind them. When he got close enough, he grabbed the man's head in a fit of irrational rage, and twisted it to face him._

_Phillip felt cold._

_Staring at him was the bewildered face of himself, only from five years ago: his youthful 21-year-old face, the one that had known Jessica Sanchez in person. Now she turned to look at the rude intruder as well, and Phillip saw that her nonchalant, half-smiling face was the same one on TV, the 21-year-old face that everyone knew._

_She looked him dead in the eye._

"_You lost me," she said._

_Then the waves rose and swallowed all three of them._

Phillip Phillips woke up on the couch with a song ringing in his head.

He wasted no time. It was 3 in the morning, but he made a break for his room for pen, paper and guitar.

He remembered that before he passed out, he had planned to write a J-Chez diss song to send to Jessica, but now that idea sounded ridiculous.

Because he finally realized what he'd lost on the night he won American Idol.

Or rather, who.


	4. Chapter 4

**4**

"Some of these song entries are absolutely atrocious," laughed Jessica, shaking her head in disbelief.

She and Mike were lounging in her Chula Vista studio, sitting at their respective computers and scrolling through their mailboxes. They were skimming over countless emails: a third of them spam advertisements, another third rabid fan mail, and the final third the entries of eager and delusional songwriters dreaming that the clunky tunes they'd worked on their entire life but sounded like they'd thrown them together in a few hours at 3AM would become Jessica Sanchez's new hit single.

Jessica giggled again at the next one she opened – after almost going deaf as the blast of distortion and noise from the potato-quality recording tore through her headphones. The song was about dying in someone's arms, the lyrics were juvenile and non-rhyming, the singer sounded like Rebecca Black without the virtue of auto-tune, and the production reminded her of Jon LaJoie's _The Best Song_. She kept giggling through a minute of ridiculousness until she pressed Stop and deleted the email, crushing Delilah Pliffenblopper's hopes and dreams.

"One-way trip to the trash. I'm done for now," she declared as she took off her headphones.

"Really? Some of the ones I'm getting are pretty good." Mike's voice sounded playful from the other side of the room. He turned away from his computer, kicked off the wall and scooted on his rolling chair next to Jessica.

She wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her chin on his shoulder. "Or maybe I just have high standards," she whispered in his ear. Then she couldn't help but giggle again and loosen her grip slightly. She was usually affectionate with Mike, but it wasn't like her to be so darkly seductive. But inside she was frustrated at all the terrible songs coming in, and it translated into other sorts of frustration. She was in that kind of mood.

Mike sensed it too. His hands found her waist and he turned her around, pulling her in. His grip was tender yet firm. "Really," he teased. Jessica closed her eyes as he moved in close and she felt his lips on hers. He kissed her deeply and broodingly, inviting her to follow his gentle movements. She returned it hungrily, adding fire to fuel, and tightened her embrace again. Lips opened to each other in rhythm and tongues interlocked smoothly. Just as Jessica felt it turn increasingly urgent, Mike pulled away softly. She gazed into his deep brown eyes.

"Come on, Jess, we gotta find the song," he said with a little smile.

Jessica smiled back. Just for that moment the stress evaporated, and she felt happy. Mike always understood how she felt. He was so sweet. Just one year ago, she'd have never imagined he would be her boyfriend. All he was to her was the simple best friend she could laugh with and reveal her real self to after she escaped from the strobe lights and camera flashes. But now that she was in his arms, it all made sense. She loved him. Yes, she was happy. "Okay," she said, and they turned back to her mailbox, his hand still on her waist.

They listened to the next song together. It was better than Delilah Pliffenblopper's, but the style and genre were obviously incompatible with J-Chez. She and Mike looked at each other, nodded simultaneously and deleted the email.

Jessica heaved a dejected sigh. "Sometimes I wonder if this song competition thing was a bad idea."

"Aw, don't worry about it. It was a great idea. You're a sweetheart for giving your fans this chance. I would never," laughed Mike. "Just 'cause I don't trust the songwriting integrity of crazy scene girls. But you've got the world after you, baby." He pinched her cheek. "All the Grammy-winning songsters are somewhere buried in our mailboxes. We just gotta find them. And besides, didn't we already find a bunch of great songs?" He opened the drawer and took out the list they'd made of songs they liked.

Jessica sighed again. "Those songs are great. But... I don't know. They just don't feel right. They're not really what I'm looking for."

"So what are you looking for?"

"I don't know. Something to move me." Jessica fell silent.

Mike watched her contemplative face. She could get so serious sometimes. She'd always been so serious for her age, and she hid it so well from the media. He decided to try to make her laugh. "You could've just asked me to write the song," he joked. Jessica didn't answer, and he fell silent too.

After a while she spoke. "Mike, you write so many beautiful songs for me. And I love them so much. But right now, I need you to do something for me."

"What is it, baby?"

A mischievous grin popped back onto Jessica's face. "Go buy me a burrito and a coke. I'm hungry."

Mike had left for Taco Bell. Jessica looked back to her screen. The title of the next email was "This will be the song you choose." She rolled her eyes – how many email titles similar to that had she thrown in the trash? Still, she opened it and began reading.

"**Hey Jessica,**

**I know you've probably been getting a lot of crummy songs for this contest thing. Don't worry. This is the song you'll choose. I'm sure of it. **

**Though I have to say that even if you released a crummy song, your fans would still love it because you're J-Chez and everyone loves you no matter what you do. My fans are a lot pickier. Release a bad song or get wasted on stage and they flip out. But I should stop complaining.**

**Anyway, the song is called _I Lost You_. Hope you like it.**

**With love,"**

Jessica read the name signed at the end of the email, and the whole world stopped.

It was like that day five years ago all over again.

When Mike returned to the studio with Jessica's lunch, he saw right away that her eyes had changed. There was an inexplicable joy in them that he'd never seen, and he wasn't sure, but he thought they were slightly red-rimmed. He knew instantly that she'd found her song.

"So? Who's the lucky winner?" He grinned and plopped down next to her.

To his surprise, he noticed that she wasn't smiling. Her mouth was hanging slightly open in disbelief, and she was shaking her head.

"It's not fair," she murmured. "I don't get it."

"What's not fair? What's wrong, baby?" Mike asked, concerned.

"That my favorite song of every song I've ever heard was written by my least favorite person."

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Least favorite person? What are you talking about?"

Jessica smiled a little half-smile and chuckled a bit. "You won't believe it. Just read the email."

Mike's eyes immediately shot to the end of the email. Jessica watched them widen in utter astonishment. She was right – he couldn't believe it either.

"Phillip Phillips? From American Idol?" he gasped.

Jessica nodded.

"That's incredible. I thought he disappeared."

"So did I. This is the first time I've heard of him in years."

Jessica started, and swallowed. She felt a cold pang of guilt as she realized she'd lied to Mike for the very first time. It wasn't her first time hearing of Phillip in years. In fact, just a few weeks ago the news had reached her of Phillip's drunken fiasco on a San Diego stage. She had ignored it since it didn't concern her.

Now she couldn't understand why she'd lied. Perhaps she was still overwhelmed by the shock of the very friendly letter – or the complete brilliance of the song.

Mike saw the tension on her face; she was avoiding his gaze. He figured he knew what was going through her mind. "You had a crush on him back then, didn't you?"

Jessica's head jerked back to him in surprise, and she was relieved to see that he was smiling, and not jealous. "Yeah," she admitted as a rich blush spread over her cheeks. Then she giggled and shrugged. "It was just a kiddy crush."

She felt another pang of guilt that didn't make sense to her, because what she'd said was true.

"You sure?" He grinned teasingly.

"Yeah." There it was again. She shook it off.

"Alright, I believe you," said Mike, giving Jessica a hug. "Let's listen to the song."

The piano opening was moody and mysterious, and sucked him in immediately. Then the intense, driving verses began coursing through his veins, giving him a second heartbeat. When the huge chorus hit, Mike's jaw dropped. It was the best thing he had ever heard, better than anything he'd ever written. The bridge gave him chills. There was even a complex, heart-wrenchingly emotive solo, and the way Phillip played it made it sound like the guitar was depressed. By the time the song was over, Mike's mouth was hanging open in awe just like Jessica's.

"Amazing," he breathed. "Incredible. I don't believe it... it's fantastic. Absolutely perfect." He snapped his fingers. "This is exactly it – this is the next J-Chez single. And what really gets me is that... it's still so _Phillip_. It's so him."

"I agree a hundred percent." Jessica had tears in her eyes again. "It's unmistakably him, but it fits me, too. It moves me." She fell quiet again for another moment.

Her eye wandered, and that was when she noticed that there was something she missed in the email, at the very bottom, after Phillip's signature. A post-script. Her attention flew back to the screen. "Mike, there's something else here," she said. "Listen to this." She began reading it aloud.

"**PS: I'd appreciate a signed copy of _BBLove_, but I don't need the royalty. Instead, I'd like to meet you sometime this week. I'll go to your tour, but I want to see you before that. Think you could do that for your old friend Phillip?"**

Jessica turned back to Mike. He could tell that she looked eager, but hesitant.

"Do you want me to go with you?"

Jessica smiled warmly, relieved. "Sure."


	5. Chapter 5

**5**

Phillip shifted and strained in an ill-fitting suit and tie. He'd asked Jessica if she wanted to grab a drink at his favorite bar, but as a superstar she was understandably shooting for something more formal, and apparently she was bringing someone else. In the end, he'd let her choose, and now here he was, a semi-niche indie rock artist at this exclusive celebrity party among the stellar likes of blues chanteuse Haley Reinhart and timeless metal legends Avenged Sevenfold, and the exponentially less talented but equally money-raking likes of Justin Bieber and Rebecca Black.

He didn't mind too much that Jessica wasn't coming alone. Considering her most probably busy schedule, he was partially amazed she even agreed to the proposition, even though he had expected his song to be the best. The song had pleasantly shocked even himself with how well it came out. He had taken a solemn minute to appreciate the hidden artistic genius of his subconscious manifested in a dream state. Still, the Grammy-winning megastar actually taking her time out to accept this offer came as a nice surprise.

It wasn't so much that Jessica was bringing someone with her that bothered him. Of course she had a right to friends and colleagues. And boyfriends. It was more that she wouldn't tell him the nature of the person. He found it weird that she wouldn't, but who was he to ask? She was the one who invited him to the glitzy celebrity party.

That was also what he told Hannah. She'd been ecstatic. "Can I go?!" she'd enthused. No, honey, only me, he'd said. "Why not?" One ticket, he'd said. He lied. It was a password."Well, don't forget to get me an autograph!" That I will, he'd said, kissing her on the cheek, feeling like a kid whose parents allowed him to go to a party.

Now he stood there with a glass in his hand, thrilled from head to toe. He hadn't been so excited about anything in years. He barely acknowledged Haley Reinhart, who winked at him as she whirled by in a billowing black dress, even with her beau Stefano on her arm (who shot her a venomous glare). Four years was really no joke of a time lapse. He couldn't believe that at any moment he'd see her, hug her, talk to her, laugh with her just like the old times before that damn Idol victory. He wondered if she was still the same.

On the other side of the gigantic hall – Carly Rae Jepsen's mansion was known for being the largest in the area – Jessica stood on the second-floor balcony with her own glass and surveyed the room in Landa-esque fashion. She could feel the anticipation caught in her throat. First scans didn't reveal a Phillip Phillips, however. With so many men all dressed the same, she wondered if she could spot him wearing a grey shirt. Probably not, with the dress code and all, but she still smiled nostalgically at the thought. Then she began looking for tousled brown hair. The list did narrow down slightly, with the sheer number of men sporting shiny Biebercuts, but it didn't help much. Jessica sighed; she noticed she was doing that a lot lately. Knowing she should be waiting for Mike, who was getting a drink, she decided that he could catch up with her later and that she wanted to venture into the sea of people in search of Phillip.

She almost tripped skipping down the stairs.

He saw her first, because he instantly recognized her navy blue dress. It was a modified, more mature version of the one she'd worn on Top 3 night, and she looked absolutely stunning in it, then and now. It accentuated her slender, shapely figure perfectly and Phillip found himself uncomfortably distracted by the low-cut neckline. It took the strength of the world for him not to stare, and then he was staring at her face: her soft features, full lips tightened in a nervous smile, subtle pink blush, jet-black eyeliner elegantly sloping upwards at the edges and framing her roving black eyes. She was breathtakingly beautiful – or she would be if Phillip had been able to breathe at all.

She noticed a man she didn't recognize eyeing her from near the bar. He was tall, pale and gaunt, looking disheveled and out of place in a slightly undersized black suit. Jessica broke into a sweat and her first thought was to call security, but the more she looked at him, the more the handsome stranger seemed oddly familiar. She blinked, then shook her head. It took a good number of blinks and head-shakes before her heart started screaming.

It kept screaming as she made her way swiftly through the crowd, stepping on dresses, pushing apart couples and uttering quick "Excuse me"s, as she closed the distance between her and the man she hadn't seen in four years. And then, there he was, right there in front of her.

"Phillip," she exclaimed as she threw her arms around him.

Deja vu.

In that moment, everything, absolutely everything was alright. But we all know what we humans and our psychological complexities enjoy doing – screwing up what is alright. Jessica was no exception. Even as she reveled in his arms, her scumbag superego decided that her screaming heart needed to be silenced for the good of her, her relationship and her career. Phillip, on the other hand, was too overwhelmed by the joy of his id to even speak. For the first time since his depression kicked in, he felt genuinely happy. In the afterlife, Freud watched with keen interest, scratching his beard thoughtfully.

"Oh my god, it's been so long," breathed Jessica when they finally let go ten seconds later. She looked at his face, into his turquoise eyes, then at the rest of him. She realized why he'd been unrecognizable. He'd grown so thin, so pallid. Shallow lines sketched the years in his profile. That cheerful, jokey quality she found so endearing had been completely replaced by a subdued tiredness. Even his grip seemed weaker than it had been the last time. _What in hell has he been through?_

"I know, huh," said Phillip, beaming, still in disbelief. "Insane." Jessica felt a wave of relief. The laid-back, cool-guy southern drawl was still there. At least there was a part of him she still knew. But even that was tinted with some degree of seriousness.

"Like, seriously, how are you?" she effused, feeling the silly grin on her face. "Four years and you haven't changed a bit!"

Phillip chuckled darkly. "That's a lie."

"No, I mean it! Still got that PP swag and all that," continued Jessica as she struck a pose. She had to keep speaking, keep joking around. That was J-Chez. Jessica Sanchez would burst into tears.

Suddenly, she felt a tap on her shoulder. "Well well well, someone sounds excited," she heard from behind her. She felt a hand reach around her waist.

"Hey, Mike," she said, returning the gesture and pulling him close.

"Just couldn't wait for me, could you?" he teased.

Jessica blushed a deep red. "Well, I couldn't make him wait, baby," she giggled.

Phillip could only stare, dumbfounded. "Mike?" No way. It couldn't be. It was impossible. Something had to be wrong.

"Oh, sorry," said Mike, snapping out of his private reverie to face Phillip. A mischievous grin spread across his narrow face, and he looked like he was trying to suppress a laugh. "I don't believe I've properly introduced myself." He reached out his hand and the grin widened. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Phillips. I'm Michael. Michael Colton Dixon." He couldn't hold it in anymore, and cracked up. "Of course, you can call me Colton."

Only now did the astonished Phillip take his hand. "Eyyy Colton, my man," he said, as they shared a solid bro-hug.

"What's with the name change, man?" asked Phillip as he pulled away and appraised his old friend. Colton was only one year younger than him, yet he looked so much more youthful and full of energy. His face was bright, his clothes were slick, and his hair was as blond and spiky as ever. He'd obviously been on a roll.

Colton grinned again. "Nah. Colton Dixon's my stage name. Has been, always will be. I'm the frontman of Chrystyl Myth now."

"Who?"

Jessica glanced at Phillip incredulously. "Chrystyl Myth? _The _biggest Christian alternative rock band? They supported Avenged Sevenfold just three months ago."

"Of course. Sorry I haven't been following the recent stuff. I'm an old man," replied Phillip.

"Anyways, as a frontman I need a stage name, but people I'm closer with – " Colton put his arm around Jessica. "– call me Mike." He smiled and gave Jessica an affectionate squeeze. He tipped his head to her. "I'm her Skinny Mini Mike now," he said, winking.

Phillip smiled lightly. "Cool. Can I call you Colton?"

Colton pouted in mock indignation. "You mean you don't want to be best friends with me?" he whined, the naughty grin surfacing again. Jessica burst into fits of giggling, and he also cracked up. Phillip watched as they laughed hysterically together, and he felt a sudden twinge of loneliness. "Yeah, sure," Colton finally said when he caught his breath. "You're my homie. Call me whatever you want. But don't call me Skinny Mini," he warned, gesturing to Jessica again. "That's _her_ name for me."

"Got it," said Phillip. "Hey, let's find a seat somewhere. I'm kind of tired." It was a lie. The truth was, his knees felt weak.

They were sitting down at a table in the bar corner – Colton drinking a Corona, Jessica sipping a vodka cranberry, and both watching Phillip chug his seventh second of Jack Daniels.

"By the way, congratulations," he said, slamming down the bottle so hard it made them jump a little. "How long has it been?"

"A year. We kept in touch after Idol." Jessica smiled thinly. "But anyways. Thank you, Phil. He's so good to me. I love him so much," she gushed, cuddling up to Colton. Her face brightened. "Oh yeah! What about Hannah? Bet our resident chick magnet still has an 'unstable girlfriend'," she quipped, laughing and rolling her eyes.

Phillip shook his head. "Nope, we're married," he said.

Jessica's mouth fell open. "Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!" she exclaimed.

Or would have exclaimed, had the words not caught in her throat.

She felt like she'd been hit by a train. She swallowed hard, and tried again. "Con-congra –"

_Stu-stu-stuttering._

"She's just shocked that _you_," Colton snapped in mock displeasure, pressing a long finger into Phillip's chest, "didn't even invite her _or_ me to your wedding." He tossed his head divaliciously, and Jessica was able to manage a slight giggle. _Oh, Mike, what would I do without you,_ she thought.

Colton turned back and looked at Phillip with a half-serious expression. "No, seriously, why didn't you?"

"Must've just forgotten."

"Tsk. Some friend you are."

"We also have a kid."

_Why does Carly Rae allow trains to drive in here!?_

"Jessica, are you okay? I think you drank too much," said Colton worriedly, holding her shoulders and smoothing her hair.

Jessica forced a grin. "Yeah, I'm a little bit tipsy. I'm a really bad drinker. Well, anyone's a bad drinker compared to this guy." She laughed and pointed at Phillip, but couldn't look him in the eyes.

"Yeah, and anyone's a 'stable girlfriend' compared to you," muttered Phillip.

"What'd you say?" Colton's eyes flared.

"It's okay, Mike," pleaded Jessica quietly.

"No, it's not okay. Who the hell does he think he is?" Colton was already fired up. The scene looked ready for a major confrontation.

All three were saved – ironically – by a dimming of lights.


	6. Chapter 6

**6**

"Hey guys, if you'd MAYBE divert your attention to my awesome and gorgeous balcony-slash-stage," blasted the bright chirrupy voice of Carly Rae Jepsen over the speakers. And so the cute bubbly mistress of potential phone calls pressed Pause on the time bomb Phillip had set ticking with his sarcastic reply.

Flowing locks and gleaming Biebercuts swished as guests turned their heads to the white-hot spotlight that now shone on Carly's balcony-stage. All eyes were then drawn to the coal-black whirlwind of silk and sequins that swirled onto the platform and elicited an eruption of cheers from the audience. Haley Reinhart looked radiant with her lustrous golden curls that matched her platinum-colored eyeshadow and light bronze tan; she glowed with her own brilliant aura, emitting sultry electricity all across the room.

"How you guys doin' tonight?" Her strong, smoky voice instantly commandeered the crowd, who all listened up and raucously voiced their approval. "So glad y'all could make it to my homegirl Carly's party," she said, giving her a big hug. "Anyway, I'm Haley Reinhart – ""

"TAKE OFF YOUR CLOOOTHES," yelled a drunk guest whose name was never revealed because he was completely unrecognizable by the time Stefano was through with his face.

"Heh, heh... yeahhhh... alright," laughed Haley awkwardly. "Okay.. yeah, that was kinda weird. Thanks, Fano." She blew him a kiss. "So anyways, Carly here told me just now that some of you might feel like dancing tonight."

More cheers. The three Idol alums – who still hadn't spoken a word – looked at each other, not sure if that would be an apt solution to their conflict.

"So I'm here to sing and bring y'all the live music. You guys cool with that?" asked Haley.

At their table, Phillip broke the ice. He shrugged casually and looked straight at Colton and Jessica, smiling. "Sounds good to me," he said. "Love me some Haley."

"Same," beamed Jessica.

"Alright, so the first song is by my girl right here. It's called Call Me Maybe," finished Haley, and the place exploded as the familiar intro chords of the monster hit floated through the speakers across the floor.

Before Colton could get in a word, Phillip was on his feet, reaching out a hand to Jessica. "You wanna dance?" She thought she could see a devilish sparkle in his eyes.

"Can I?" Jessica asked Colton excitedly.

"Yeah, of course." Colton smiled, kissed her cheek, and waved them off.

He ordered another Corona and sat there quietly, watching them from the corner of his eye and thinking about the night's events. Then they disappeared from his view, and he suddenly felt a wave of uneasiness. _What the..._ he thought, almost as abruptly getting furious at himself. There were two things he hated more than anything: overly paranoid and jealous other halves, and hypocrites. Now he was both. He felt guilty, embarrassed and angry. He almost laughed and shook his head at how absurd he was being. Why should he think anything about his girlfriend dancing with an old acquaintance? It was so incredibly harmless and innocent he didn't even know why it was on his mind. Maybe it was that little comment from Phillip that just pissed him off.

_He's a married father. Her crush on him was five years ago. FIVE. Get a grip._

At the dance floor, everyone was trying to steal a glance at the attractive stranger dancing with Jessica Sanchez, but to their disappointment he seemed to sense that he was being watched and kept his head low, so that his face was constantly in the shadows. They gave up trying to recognize him just as the song entered its chorus, after which Phillip reached into his pocket, pulled out a card and gave it to Jessica.

"Business card," he said. "So that we don't fall out of touch again."

_Here's my number,_

_So call me maybe?_

"You got it," replied J-Chez, making a gangster hand-gesture and slapping him a hi-five with the card still in her hand. Phillip raised an eyebrow: the more she talked, the less he felt like he knew her.

A petite redheaded waitress strolled by and gave them each a small piece of paper and a pen. "Requests for Ms. Reinhart," she said. She beamed and nodded respectfully at Jessica. Her puzzled gaze lingered on Phillip for several seconds, then drifted away after failing to identify him.

Phillip leaned over to take a look at what Jessica was writing down, but she jerked her paper away. "It's a secret," she said with a tense smile.

"Then I can keep mine one too." They handed their notes to the waitress, who moved on to the next guests.

Haley was singing a Gaga tune. At the bar, Colton grew restless.

_They're out there having fun. Why am I sitting here?_

He got up with one slam on the table, generating loud complaints from the drunk people surrounding him – but not before he took a quick swig from Phillip's Jack Daniels bottle.

Making his way through the crowd, he soon located a cute-looking brunette standing alone who looked like she could be a decent dance partner. He instantly regretted it and almost facepalmed when he saw her face clearly, but she was the only lone one around, so he still introduced himself.

"Chrystyl Myth, right?" inquired the girl. "I'm Rebecca Black."

"Right. Your music sucks, but let's dance." Colton grabbed her arm with a irritated forcefulness that surprised him.

_You and I_ had ended, and Haley was now flipping through the requests that the redhead waitress had just handed her. Every now and then, her pealing laughter at the songs being requested, which she read out loud, would send the audience into hysterics. Jessica was unsettlingly reminded of her own songwriting competition, the terrible entries and the fact that she had to record Phillip's song as soon as possible if she wanted to release it in time and perform it on tour. She was suddenly overcome with stress.

"Awwww, come on, you guys, are you really gonna make me sing _Sexy and I Know It_?" The audience roared with laughter. "Serious entries, _please!_ Do that and I'll sing it to you in private," she continued, giggling amidst the whistles and catcalls. Then she read the next note, her eyes widened with pleasant surprise."_Princess of China_ by Coldplay and Rihanna," she mused, nodding in approval.

Phillip looked at Jessica, even more surprised. "_Princess of China_. Our duet for Top 4 that they scrapped." He laughed a bit incredulously. "Can't believe I still remember that."

"I don't even," answered Jessica casually. Another lie. She'd requested it. And she never forgave the producers for scrapping it from Top 4 night in exchange for that horrific _Eternal Flame_ with Hollie. She couldn't believe the extent of her memory, but deep inside she was happy that Phil remembered it too.

"Interesting choice. I'm impressed. Okay, doing that one next," decided Haley. "Hey, Fano! Wanna come up and sing this with me?"

As the synth man struck up the first grainy, electronic notes of _Princess of China_,Jessica was aware of Phillip's hands on her waist, pulling her gently closer. To Freud's surprise, her condemning superego allowed her id to enjoy this moment. Her conflicted ego was painfully sandwiched in the middle. Its reproachful mother was screeching, "This is wrong!" while its crazy party-goer sister sighed dreamily, "This is perfect." The combination of overactive mental acrobatics, an increasing pulse and Haley's sky-rocketing vocals made Jessica feel light-headed, and even as she put her hands around Phillip's neck, she couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes.

"Relax a bit, will ya," he joked reassuringly. "You're all tense and stuff. Come on, Jess. It's our song."

And just like that, the old Phil was back – and Jessica caved in. For the first time in four years, she felt comfortable with the person who'd taken everything from her. She lowered her head, closed her eyes and let her feelings dictate her. They moved to the driving, pulsing rhythm carried by the soaring synthesizer, which soon fully absorbed their thoughts and senses. As musicians become lost in their own compositions, so they dissolved in the sole presence of each other and the melody of their unfulfilled duet.

_Once upon a time, on the same side_

_Once upon a time, on the same side, in the same game_

_And why'd you have to go_

_Have to go and throw water on my flame?_

"I'm pretty, like a Chinese princess, right?" chattered Rebecca to Colton several couples away, as she spun over and over around his outstretched arm. "Chinese princess... person of interest... see, it rhymes!"

"Not really," grumbled Colton, as he handed his request to the waitress, stretched his head upward and cast his eyes across the crowd, searching for a copper-skinned beauty and a tall white drunk.

The song entered its heartrending bridge, and to Phillip's delight, he heard a familiar voice singing along softly. Jessica's shy, soothing vocals, which she delivered with a self-deprecating grin and a lack of eye contact, drowned out Haley in the microcosm they'd created for themselves. His mind reverted to early Top 4 rehearsals, practicing the song, memorizing the lyrics in the studio. He began singing along too. Then, they were finally duetting, for real. Their eyes met and they grinned at each other, recalling the memory.

_You stole my star,_

_Lalalalalalala..._

On and on they went, duetting to no one but each other, moving ever closer until the climactic final outro, by which point their foreheads touched and the scene looked strongly reminiscent of Chris Martin and Rihanna's interaction in the original music video.

_'Cause you really hurt me..._

_Ohhhhh, you really hurt me._

The majestic instrumental drew to a close, but for a good five seconds afterwards, Phillip and Jessica remained as they were, gazing at each other and sharing the same exhilaration in their eyes.

"My turn," said a quiet, cutting voice behind them.

In a flurry of sounds and visions and an startlingly forceful tug, Jessica felt like a blizzard had blown through her as she was whirled into Colton's arms. She swallowed hard, abruptly snapping back into reality. She tried to catch a glimpse at Phillip's reaction, but Colton was holding her too close for comfort.

Stefano announced that he would be singing the next request: _What You Need_ by The Weeknd.

With his girlfriend back in his reach, Colton's frigid heart melted effortlessly, but when he looked carefully into Jessica's troubled eyes, his gut feelings intensified. Still, he assuaged her with a nonchalant and easygoing smile that effectively concealed the acerbity of his expression, and looked away over his shoulder. His mind now focused on one thing only: staying in Phillip's line of vision.

_And __I'mma __love __you __girl, __the __way __you __need__  
__Ain't __no __one __gon' __stop __us, __ain't __no __one __gon' __stop __us._

He made sure Phillip was watching. Then he kissed Jessica, hard. He wanted to make the point of the song. Heated passion and jealousy dissolved his moral qualms as he tightened his embrace, again with an irrational strength that was unfamiliar to him. Even as she eagerly kissed Colton back, Jessica shifted a bit uneasily as she felt his hands slide from her waist and press down into her hips, pulling her lower body forward into him with a fervent urgency, so that her back was slightly arched and he leaned over her almost possessively. She could feel his heart thumping madly. She pulled away firmly from his insistent tongue.

"Colton... Mike," she whispered, smiling nervously up at him. "Easy. I'm right here."

"Good," was all he said as he loosened his grasp and held her head gently to his shoulder, as they continued to dance.

_I'm the drug in your veins_

_Just fight through the pain_

_He's what you want..._

_I'm what you need._

When the song ended, the couple separated, tension between them at a new high. Colton scanned the floor, but to his sharp disappointment, Phillip had disappeared.

Phillip had returned to the bar. He'd watched Colton and Jessica for a few seconds, and decided that he had no business being there. They were clearly smitten with each other, and he was the third wheel.

The night was late; _What __You N__eed_ had ended. Haley Reinhart was announcing that the next song would be the first of a series that would end her stint tonight. "It's my old but gold rocker hit," she declared. "Watch out... don't get caught in my _Spiderweb_."

_My __favorite __Haley __track,_ thought Phillip. _Shame __I __have __no __one __to __dance __with._

He decided to walk to the bathroom, where he could be alone.

Colton's sudden intense display of affection had left Jessica exhausted. The impact of the alcohol was kicking in, and the huge distorted guitar chorus of _Spiderweb _didn't help much.

"Mike, I need a break," she said.

"A break... between us?" he asked calmly, but she saw hysteria calculatedly hidden beneath the surface.

"No, silly... a break from dancing." Again, the reassuring smile that she'd used on him at least three times tonight.

For a second, his face stayed frozen; then it relaxed as he started to laugh. "Yeah, of course, babe. What was I thinking? Of course, go ahead."

She hovered through the crowd, looking for a place to mellow out. Her head felt hot, and she felt dizzy.

She decided to walk to the bathroom to wash her face.

The hallway to the restroom was empty when she entered. She sat down against the wall, hugging her legs, and listened to Haley's song, still audible, reverberating around the shiny walls.

_The more that you fight,_

_the more that you're mine_

_I'll keep you forever._

From the corner of her eye, she saw Phillip emerge from the restroom.

Neither of them could explain what happened next, but in a split second, they found themselves in each other's arms.

_Come in, just a little bit closer now._

_You know that you want me to take you down._

_I'm the thrill that you can't escape_

_There's no way out_

_So don't you forget_

_You're caught in my spiderweb._

The hallway was empty except for them. Normal life was continuing outside. Haley was singing, Rebecca Black was harassing her next victim, and Colton was waiting patiently for his girlfriend to come back from the restroom. But the id controls the intoxicated mind, and at that moment normal life seemed galaxies and galaxies away, as they danced slowly to the ¾ beat. As the song broke down into the bridge and _Spiderweb_ stripped into Haley's bell-like acapella, they stared down into each other, breathing shallowly, their feet slowly edging into the wall.

_You don't know it yet_

_But you might regret_

_The moment we met._

_You're caught in my spiderweb._

Exactly when Haley belted the last "Spiderweb" that gave way into the musical climax and her soaring high note, Phillip pushed Jessica against the wall and kissed her.

A tsunami of conflicting emotions crashed into her. It was so overwhelming that momentarily, she blacked out.

Then her eyes sprung open. Rational thought screamed for help. It woke her up, sobered her up. And with all h er physical and emotional strength, she shoved him away.

He stumbled backwards, suddenly awake, and saw clearly the distraught girl standing before him who looked ready to break down completely. Then it began to sink in, what he had just done.

"Phillip," she whispered weakly, her eyes filling. Her miniature frame was trembling, and she was shaking her head wistfully, as if she had a million things to say but just couldn't.

Then she burst into tears, turned, and ran.


	7. Chapter 7

**7**

Nearly twenty minutes had gone by, and Colton's impatience was turning into worry. He wondered if he should go check if Jessica was alright. He'd never seen her drink that much, and it was probably getting to her bad. But at the exact same time he was feeling genuinely concerned for Jessica's safety, the jealous paranoid in the back of his mind was opening its quiet but nasty mouth. _Where's __Phillip?_ it whispered. _Have __you __noticed __that __he's __also __disappeared? __What's __he __doing? __Or __should __I __say...__what's __he __doing __with __her?_ Colton thought he heard the voice cackle maliciously, and he suddenly feared that he was going insane.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and spun around violently, ready to embrace his girlfriend or punch an unwelcome visitor in the face. He met neither, but instead encountered a man with sharp features and an angular face, wearing a red fedora and thick black eyeliner.

"Colton, my man," said Synyster Gates, slapping a tattooed hand on Colton's shoulder.

"Sup, Syn." While on tour, Colton had become decent bros with the unholy lead guitarist of Avenged Sevenfold. He was the heartthrob of his day, and always shared with Colton insightful knowledge about female fantarding over a twelve-pack of beers on the tour bus.

"What're you doing alone?"

"Waiting for Jessica. You?"

Synyster rolled his eyes. "Leaving. This place is pretty shit."

"Yeah, " concurred Colton wearily. "I'mma bounce as soon as Jess gets back. Where you going?"

"Nawwww, it was supposed to be a secret, but you're my bro so I'll tell you," replied Syn. He gestured to a door on the far right and gave Colton a cool wink. "Got some bitches waiting for me in the VIP room."

Colton raised an eyebrow. "What about Michelle?"

"Michelle?" Syn let out a easy laugh. "Man, I don't even think she'll mind. I married her for the stability of my image, you know. But living on the road for so many years, I kinda found out that the rockstar doesn't _get_ 'stability'. It's like, I love Michelle and she's a great wife. But she knows that I spend a lot of time away and she gets that I have my own schedule – "

"You haven't told her, have you," said Colton drily.

"I'm a guy, Colton," laughed Syn. "Guys are animals. Can't trust us. We have something good but we want something better." He gave him a slap on the back. "You know our motto," he added, pointing a glossy black nail at him. "He who makes a beast out of himself –"

"– gets rid of the pain of being a man," finished Colton. "Yeah, yeah, I get it."

"See ya, Dixon."

"Later, Gates. Have fun." Colton watched him leave and the band's famed phrase ran through his head. Before he could process it, however, he decided to turn around, and just as he did, Jessica Sanchez crashed into him.

They hugged for a long time. As he stroked his hand through her hair, he noticed she was holding on to him more tightly than usual. When they finally pulled away, he saw that her eyes were a bit red. "Are you alright, baby?" he asked, his hand on her cheek, stricken with worry.

Jessica nodded weakly.

"Have you been crying?"

She shook her head. He wasn't convinced.

"Tell me what – "

"I can't tell you what happened," she suddenly said.

Colton stared. His mind immediately jumped to conclusions. "What..." He hesitated, not sure if he wanted to hear what she had to say anyway. "What do you mean you can't tell me? I'm here for you. I'm your _boyfriend._" He heard the desperation in his voice.

Jessica averted her eyes. "Because you'll get mad at me," she mumbled, like a child being yelled at by her parents.

A chill ran down his spine. _So the jealous paranoid was right. What did he do to her?_ "Tell me what happened, please, Jessica," Colton pleaded as calmly as he could. "I promise it'll be alright." He struggled to keep his composure and suppress the rising anger in his chest. "Who was – "

"It was no one," she interrupted again.

"What?"

She gave an exasperated sigh. "Okay, fine. I'll tell you what happened," she said, looking him straight in the eye. "But promise not to get mad."

Colton nodded, but the insane jealous paranoid was already preparing to beat Phillip to the ground.

Jessica's face relaxed into a weary half-smile. "Look, Mike, I was feeling terrible after all that drink, so I went outside to throw up. Then I still felt like crap, and I needed to feel better and unwind, and there were a couple of my friends smoking a joint in the corner. So I joined them." She pointed to her red eyes and shrugged, indicating the end of her story.

Colton blinked. He couldn't believe that was actually a lot better than what he'd expected, and then he couldn't believe himself for suspecting her the way he did. It finally hit him now how senselessly paranoid he was being. He felt so guilty he wanted to apologize to her, but then he would have to explain his suspicions. The least he could do was to believe her.

So he reached out and tousled her hair. "Okay, babe, glad you had fun," he said, smiling disarmingly, then putting on his teasingly stern face. "But don't do it again. You're straight-edge and a role-model. Stay that way."

"Yeah, yeah, fine." Jessica rolled her eyes. "Hey, you know what, let's go."

"Should we wait for Phillip?" Colton heard himself say. That wasn't him speaking. That was the jealous paranoid. He realized it was testing her.

He searched her ruby-tinged black eyes, but found nothing at all. There was nothing there to see. No flash of hesitation, no blink of surprise. Nothing. They looked earnestly and honestly back at him. She was telling the truth. "I haven't seen him," she said. "But I'm not feeling good. He'll leave on his own. Let's just go home."

"Isn't it kind of rude to just ditch a guest?" _That thing was on a roll._

Jessica frowned at him quizzically and shook her head. "Mike..."

"What?" he asked, far too loudly.

"Let's go home."

They sat in silence in the taxi, but it wasn't an awkward silence. As Colton watched Jessica sleeping serenely on his shoulder, he was enveloped by a sense of security. The paranoia slipped away into the air as he mulled over the events of the evening. Perhaps it had turned out more turbulent than he'd imagined, even though he should have expected it; after all, Phillip _was _a long-estranged friend whom she had had feelings for, and Colton realized that he'd probably underestimated the intensity of those feelings. But he recalled that she was only twenty-one, still so young. She had just been confused and drunk.

_She __still __loves __me,_ he thought. And the more he looked at her peaceful, sleeping face, her mind soaring off in some fantastic colorful dream he wished he could see, the less he doubted that thought.

The taxi pulled up to her studio. Jessica had asked to go there instead of her place; apparently she wanted to get some work done. Colton had tried to talk her into going home and getting some rest, but she wouldn't be persuaded. Now he gently shook her awake.

"You work too hard," he said softly as she kissed him goodbye.

She said nothing, but smiled and hummed the outro to his favorite song.

_And even as I stumble_

_I'll work hard, stay humble_

_As the walls come crumbling down._

_As the world comes crumbling down._

They weren't living together yet, but she was almost certain that had she chosen to go home, he would have stayed over with her, and she didn't want that. She couldn't bear to look at his face. Every second of that terrible confrontation in which she forced herself to stare into his eyes so that he would believe her lies filled her with guilt. But the worst part wasn't the kiss, or the story, or the lies. It was that he seemed to believe every word. It hurt to watch him believe her. He was so sweet, so kind, so trusting.

And so gullible. She suddenly felt a sick satisfaction at how convincing her acting had been. Of all the Hollywood chick flicks and giant robot movies she'd been in, this was by far her best performance. She laid back on the futon in her studio, stretched out and let it all sink in – and as she relaxed, another sick pleasure crept to the surface. It had only lasted for a fraction of a second, but it had happened all the same: she'd kissed Phillip back.

She had planned to start working on the song overnight, but it was seeming less and less likely in her physical state. At the rate she was fading out it probably wasn't going to happen, so she decided to spend some time learning the lyrics. She put on her headphones, but less than a minute into _I __Lost __You_, she was already asleep.

_There he was again, heartlessly gleeful, standing with that cheesy grin in front of her and the audience. She understood that Ryan Seacrest was only doing his job, but did he have to be such an glib, unsympathetic, gloating dick about it?_

The dimmed Idol stage and the anticipating crowd were sights that rang a less-than-comfortable bell, but something felt unfamiliar about the arm around her. There was something off about that grip. It didn't feel right; for some reason it didn't feel like him. Then she understood why. She wasn't on the correct side. She was standing to his left instead of his right. Confused, Jessica glanced involuntarily at the hand resting on her left shoulder.

Strangely enough, it wasn't Phillip's hand but a woman's.

Jessica immediately turned her head right to comprehend what sorcery was going on. Sure enough, she looked not into his brilliant turquoise eyes but the gentle brown ones of Elise Testone, who smiled understandingly back even as the pressure evident on her own face looked ready to destroy her. It dawned on Jessica that this was the Top 7 elimination.

_Ryan's ever-cheerful voice thundered across the studio."And the person at risk of leaving us tonight, after the nationwide vote, is..."_ _Elise looked down, thinking she was done for. Jessica knew otherwise, but she followed suit so that she wouldn't spoil the big surprise. _

"_Jessica Sanchez!" There it was._

_This time around, Jessica knew not to miss a beat. Instead of looking downwards with the horror and dread of elimination, she instantly turned to Elise, and she caught the expression she'd wanted to see: the flash of relief in Elise's eyes that it was Jessica and not her. Of course Jessica knew it was natural, but she always found it interesting, yet was always too far from the elimination scene to see it happening. Now that her curiosity was satisfied, she hugged Elise, took the mic from Ryan, and tried her best to recall the lyrics to _Nobody's Supposed To Be Here.

_Then something else caught her eye, and her heart nearly stopped as chills rocked her body. There was Phillip on the safe seats, looking shocked and outraged. This was pretty much where it started..._

_The piano backtrack began to play, but Jessica could barely speak. She coughed and cleared her throat, trying as hard as she could to not look at Phillip. But the judges' expressions were not a big improvement. For some reason, they seemed off too. Something was wrong. Jennifer's face was blank, and Randy and Steven looked ominously stoic. In a trembling voice Jessica began to sing._

I've spent all my life...

_She couldn't help it, and stole a look at the safe seats. Phillip was mouthing, "Save her!" and motioning urgently for the judges to get up. _

On a search to find...

_Phillip was still gesturing frantically. She turned back to look at the judges – and what she saw froze her from the inside. They were still in their seats. Jennifer had not gotten up to save her. All of a sudden Jessica's voice caught in her throat. She swallowed and tried again, but no matter how hard she tried, no sound came out. The backtrack faded. The crowd hushed, and the safe idols exchanged worried glances and whispers._

"_Save her, you fucking idiots!"_

_A sharp crack burst through shocked gasps from the audience as Phillip got up forcefully from his seat, red in the face. The judges paid no attention to him at all. Steven was shaking his head._

"_Look, Jess, I know you've been a great singer and all, but I think we're gonna have to let you go," he said._

"_I'm sorry, baby," said Jennifer._

_Randy was nodding wistfully. "I agree. I'm sorry, Jessica. Someone has to go home."_

"_Are you out of your mind!?" exploded Phillip, striding to the judges' table and grabbing Randy by the throat. "No one has to go home, you lying piece of shit," he seethed, his green eyes smoldering with rage. "You've got a save, and if anyone should be saved it's her. She's the best singer I've ever heard, and she's going home? Are you fucking kidding me – "_

_Security tore an uncontrollable Phillip away from Randy, but by now the audience was cheering wildly. For him? For the judges? For her? Jessica didn't know, but as she watched on, paralyzed and eerily detached from the fray, she saw Nigel motion to the security guards to keep Phillip on the set, and she could almost swear that he mouthed the words, "It's good TV."_

_Even as Phillip screamed furious slurs at the judges and struggled to free himself of the guards' iron grip, life seemed to be moving on. The audience, while still raucous, seemed to have accepted the result, and Ryan had already taken the mic from Jessica. "America and the judges have made their decision," he announced. "And so we say goodbye to Jessica Sanchez, ladies and gentlemen!"_

_Jessica felt an arm wrap around her shoulder. She turned and stared with horror into the face of Colton Dixon. He was wearing a smile that was meant to reassure but, at this moment, filled her not with comfort but with utter disgust. "Don't worry," he said, still smiling, putting his face close to hers. "I'm sure you'll have a very successful career." In the split second he reached out to hug her, Jessica saw on his face the exact same expression she had seen on Elise just a few minutes ago. He was glad it was her, and not him._

_She jerked away in revulsion. "Get away from me," she whispered coldly._

_Colton smirked. "I'll see you at the finale."_

"_NOW!" she screamed._

_From the safe seats, Hollie pulled out a gun and shot Jessica in the head._

Jessica woke up at 3AM in a cold sweat with tears stinging her eyes.

She didn't hesitate; she let them flow.


End file.
